


An Earned Reward

by Munflour



Series: Cicero and Reyye [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-23 11:21:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19700335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Munflour/pseuds/Munflour
Summary: After a botched assassination, the Listener believes she has failed. The Night Mother disagrees.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't plan on making this more than 2 or 3 chapters, but we'll see what happens. However long it takes for them to bone, I guess???

There was blood on her hands. Figuratively and quite literally. Her last contract had not gone the way she planned, and what was supposed to take no more than ten minutes lasted thirty. 

The target was a nameless nord who, as per the usual, had crossed the wrong person at some point in his life. He screwed up, and in turn she had as well. The irony of the situation was sickening.

Her arrow had missed. And she NEVER missed. A simple contract turned into a literal knife fight in the basement of a tavern between her and the target. To say she was furious would be an understatement; she was uncomfortably close to hurling her bow into a fire. 

Right as she let her arrow fly, the man had shifted a fraction of an inch to the left and her arrow lodged itself into the wall in front of him. The next thing she knew, a very large, angry man wielding a dagger was charging at her. 

Swords and daggers had never been her strongest skill, and she had fumbled with the ebony dagger strapped to her thigh for a second too long when his fist landed a strong blow to her face that instantly shattered her nose and sent her flying backwards into an end table that split down the middle with the force of the impact. She felt more than heard two of her ribs crack before she lost consciousness.

If Cicero hadn't wandered down the stairs at just the right second, she would have died in that shithole of a basement covered in her own blood. He had somehow managed to eliminate the target, carry her not only out of the tavern, but outside of the city limits as well. She came to lying on a bedroll staring up at the ceiling of an abandoned shack, her wounds sore but healed, either by magic or an assortment of potions.

That was where she lay now. A fire crackled in the hearth, and above the sound of splitting embers she heard the hum of running water. It was a loud but welcome sound that carried reassurance; they couldn't be far from a road.

She shifted her weight to her elbows and pushed herself up into a sitting position, her new healed ribs sending a shockwave protest throughout her body. The pain took her breath away and she groaned, slumping over against the wall. She gritted her teeth and choked back another moan of pain as she slid back down into the nest of blankets. She had broken much more than a couple ribs.

"Listener!" 

Cicero had very literally leapt across the room to her bedside, a healing potion in one hand and what appeared to be a wet cloth in the other. She studied his face for any sort of injuries. His face was tired and creased with worry, but his eyes sparkled. He was fine.

"The Listener slept for days. Drink this." As he brought the potion to her lips, she noticed his usually gloved hands were bare. They were small but broad and strong. The kind of hands used to strangle someone rather than help a wounded woman down a healing potion.

She swallowed the rest of the potion and grimaced at the taste it left in her throat. "Water." Her voice came out hoarse and she coughed in an attempt to clear it, but Cicero had already crossed the room and back with a pot of what she hoped was purified river water. He helped her drink, and relief washed through her when she tasted that it was.

"Thank you, Cicero." The jester placed the pot on the end table next to her and pulled up a chair, plopping down into it and fixing her with a stare. 

"Cicero will do everything he can to make sure the Listener stays alive." He smiled that manic smile of his and then huffed, his face darkening. "Cicero cut that stupid nord's throat. To lay a hand on the Listener! Oh, Cicero made sure he saw the error of his ways before he sent his soul to Sithis." 

Something in the way he spoke made her smile, but the reminder of her failure sat in her stomach like a rock.

"Cicero, I'm so sorry…" her eyes stung. The tears threatening to fall only made her angry, but Cicero seemed genuinely frightened by them. 

He reached forward and touched a tear that fell down her cheek, a look of bewilderment carved into his face. "Why does the Listener weep?" She locked eyes with him and saw something unfamiliar pass through them, something unrecognizable that she had never seen in him. It only made her cry more.

"I failed! It was a simple contract and I butchered it. I'm so stupid. I failed Mother and the Brotherhood, and I put your life in danger as well as my own." She sniffled, but her tears evaporated under the heat of her rage. Cicero withdrew his hand and looked at her, the lines of his face deepening in confusion as his brows furrowed.

"Dear Listener, Cicero is more than capable of fighting. And stabbing. And dancing!" His voice rose several octaves and she realized quickly that he was very upset. "The Listener hasn't failed. The target is dead, and the Listener is alive with dear, sweet Cicero."

She angrily wiped at her face before looking at him again, his brown eyes fixed on her with the intensity of madness. She reached out to him and took one of his hands in her own and gave it a squeeze. Bewilderment returned to his face again and he looked unsure of how to respond to her sudden affection, but he made no effort to let go of her hand.

"Thank you, Cicero." Her rage still simmered, but there was no point in pressing the matter with him. Especially after he reassured her of her impossible success. At least she had stopped crying.

"We leave tomorrow. I need to speak with Mother." The potion he had given her earlier had eased her physical pain enough that her body allowed her to roll onto her side. She expected Cicero to leave her side and return to the corner he had resided in for the past several days, but she felt him staring holes into her back from his chair beside her bed. She was surprised to find comfort in his nearness, and after a time of lying there she fell into a dreamless, healing sleep again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An uneventful journey. The Listener's pride is tame, thank you very much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! I'm writing another chapter after this because I'm too long winded to make things compact. I feel like this one is much longer, but I tried to omit anything unnecessary that didn't contribute too much. Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> ***ALSO*** I'm in the process of editing a few errors that occurred when I pasted the text, so bear with me

She woke at noon the following day, feeling significantly more rested but in a good deal of pain. Once Cicero realized she was awake, he tried to coax her into eating but with no success. The thought of food made her want to vomit.

She was weak from injuries and from her involuntary fast, so weak in fact that Cicero needed to help her pull her armor on. She was almost certain that she had seen redness creep into his cheeks as he helped her dress, but she doubted it. He was too mad to notice anyone, that she was completely sure of.

Once they exited the shack, she had been surprised to see Shadowmere tethered to what remained of a fence post. She realized then exactly how far Cicero had struggled with her unconscious form. The contract had been in Ivarstead; they were now on the north western edge of the hot springs. That was quite a distance to travel on foot, especially leading a horse carrying a very bloody and wounded person in its saddle.

It was even farther from the hot springs to Dawnstar.

The journey itself was long and uneventful. There was plenty of time for her mind to wander back to that split second in the riverside shack. She had stood leaning against the wall to support herself as she raised a leg up for Cicero to help her into her greaves. His hands had brushed against the bare skin of her inner thigh as he fastened the strips of her armor, and in the dim light that filtered in through the slats of the roof, his face had gone red.

Or so it seemed. She reminded herself again of what the little Imperial was: absolutely bonkers. Whatever thoughts he had in his head certainly weren't focused on what resided between her legs.

But the fact of his madness didn't ease the pleasant, floating feeling stirring within her chest.

Aside from her wandering thoughts, she spent the entire trip hunched over on Shadowmere's saddle clutching her side. Each step the steed took on the uneven terrain shot straight through her ribs and jolted every bone that had broken her fall. Cicero had jogged next to them, humming happily to himself as he led Shadowmere through various overgrown forest shortcuts. After a time the trees began to blur together into a mass of shifting leaves and varying shades of green, but the forest gradually thinned out the farther they went.

Soon the trees disappeared altogether and the temperature began to drop. The greenery was quickly replaced with bare fields of snow. They were almost home. Soon she would have to face Mother and kneel before her to ask for forgiveness. It made her feel heavy with grief.

The entire sanctuary would know of how she failed. She was their Listener, the one they looked up to and revered, especially Cicero. But Cicero didn't blame her, which she believed to be due to his madness. He would need to be mad in order to accept such a failure.

She had been hired to kill that man and even though he had ended up dead in the end, it was not by her own hand. A professional assassin who couldn't even kill her own target. The Keeper, who was forbidden from accepting contracts or performing assassinations, completed hers. Her face burned with shame at the thought.

By the time they reached the road outside Dawnstar, her anger and shame had festered into an ugly wound again. It seemed ready to swallow her hole as she dismounted Shadowmere's back and limped towards the door, Cicero supporting most of her weight. She had always been short for a nord, so Cicero had an easier time supporting her as she limped along.

Her legs felt like jelly after sitting for what felt like days, and she might as well have been wading through knee deep sludge with all the difficulty she was having putting one foot in front of the other.

The black door loomed before them now as they stood ready to cross its threshold.

_"What is life's greatest illusion?"_

She cleared her throat and answered, her voice clear but tired: "Innocence, my brother."

The door swung open as the voice rasped it's greeting.

" _Welcome home."_

Cicero grasped her tightly to his side to steady her as she took a wobbly step into the sanctuary. Making their way to the Night Mother's coffin was an arduous task, but the only dread she harbored was for the stairs leading down into the common room. They reached the coffin and she slumped against the side of it, the cold of the metal seeping in through her armor.

"Cicero," she gazed up at him tiredly, her breathing slightly labored from exerting her tired body. "Tell the others we're back. I want to be alone with Mother for now. I'll call for you when I'm ready." The Jester nodded seriously.

"Yes, Listener! Humble Cicero lives to serve." He turned on his heel and skipped down the steps, taking them two at a time until he reached the common room and disappeared from her line of sight. _But what if I don't want you to serve me?_

She rested her forehead against the coffin and closed her eyes, the touch of the metal oddly soothing against her face. _I'm so sorry. It was such an easy contract. Cicero disobeyed you because of me_. The tears that she fought earlier as she spoke to Cicero returned, and this time she let them free. They fell from her cheeks and onto the stone floor where she sat, glaring up at her mockingly. _The target is dead, but I failed to complete the contract myself._ She clenched her hands into fists and dug her knuckles into her thighs to stifle a pitiful cry caught in her throat.

It felt as if she were a child again and knew that her mother was aware that she had misbehaved. Somehow this hurt just as much as it had when her mother reprimanded her as a child. The Night Mother's silence as she prayed felt like a slap across the face.

She knelt by the coffin for several more minutes in silence until her tears dried, and when her voice was steady she called for Cicero. He returned with Nazir and a disgruntled looking Babette in tow. She couldn't tell if Nazir was upset with her because, well, that was sort of his default facial expression. But when he spoke to her, his voice assumed an unfamiliar soothing tone.

"Listener, you need to rest." He and Cicero stood on either side of her and pulled her to her feet. She hated that she was still so weak. "Babette is in the process of brewing some potions that should heal some of those nastier wounds quickly." He shot the vampire a look, which she ignored.

"I just wanted to make sure that you were alright. Cicero told us what happened." She pursed her lips slightly and paused before continuing. "Listener, this isn't entirely your fault. Everyone has a tough contract at some point in their life."

She knew what Babette was trying to do, but somehow her understanding stung even more than she thought their anger would.

"It wasn't a tough contract." Her words came out more venomous than she had intended and she grimaced at the sound of them. "Babette, it is my fault. That…"

Nazir piped up from her right side. "Bastard?"

She ignored him and continued. "He nearly killed me. I'm the best at what I do. And if I did die, what would happen to all of you?" Nazir and Babette exchanged a quick glance.

"While I suppose that last bit is worth considering," they were halfway down the stairs now, and she was already wishing she were unconscious, or lying in her bed high as a kite on one of Babette's potions. Nazir continued once she had regained steady footing at the last step, and then they began making their way to her private quarters. "With all due respect, Listener, you really should tame your ego."

She barked a breathless laugh. They were just down the hall from her room. "My ego is as battered as my body, Nazir. It won't be hard to tame now."

Finally they had reached her room, and she nearly wept at the sight of her bed. Sleep was so close.

She eased herself down onto the edge of her bed and kicked off her shoes. Nazir attempted to help her, but she swatted his hands away.

"Stop fussing over me, Nazir. Let me maintain my current level of dignity." She didn't mention the fact that Cicero had nearly seen her left tit earlier. That and the memory of his flushed face filled her stomach with nervous, embarrassed butterflies.

Babette left a few slices of bread and cheese on the dresser for her, and she knew Cicero told them that she hadn't eaten. Her pride made her wish that he hadn't.

Nazir followed Babette out of her room and shut the door behind him, leaving her alone with Cicero. The Jester perched himself on the chest at the foot of her bed and gazed at her, his expression unreadable.

"You can rest, you know." She pulled a thick woolen blanket over herself, not even bothering to shed her armor. She didn't want to put Cicero through that again. But part of her did. That same part of her was still curious about the warmth of his hands as well, and it worried her. "I'm safe now. You really don't need to keep watch."

Cicero still looked at her, but his brows deepened every slightly into a frown. "Hmph." Was all he said to her before he stood to his feet and crossed the room, settling into a chair near the door. He was still watching her, though.

She sighed in annoyance and relaxed further into the familiarity of her bed. Soon sleep began to overtake her, pulling her under into a separate state of consciousness. That was when she heard Mother begin to speak.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Night Mother offers some much needed reassurance. The Listener dreams of strangers and rewards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, this is turning out to be much longer than I had intended. Hang in there, friends

She had grown accustomed to the Night Mother's cold and raspy voice in her mind, but this time it was different. Clearer, smoother, more human-like. 

"Oh, daughter. Why all the shame?" Invisible fingers brushed her cheek and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "My dear one, you have always followed my instructions to the letter. How could I ever be upset when presented with such unwavering loyalty?"

She blinked in the blackness before her, expecting to see Mother's form step out of the void. But the void remained unshifting and constant, holding only the voice that had spoken to her.

"I…" she felt her lip tremble and swallowed before she spoke again. "Nazir said it was my ego. I don't think he's wrong either, Mother." She felt the Night Mother listening in the stillness, and when that stillness persisted she continued to speak.

"My mistake led Cicero to disobey your orders, and I endangered his safety as well as my own and that of the family." She cast her eyes downward, even though there was no one standing before her. She could feel something shift in the Night Mother's presence, a sort of lightness that blew through her hair like a breeze.

The Night Mother laughed then, a haunting and musical sound that caused goose bumps to rise up from her skin. "My child, Cicero saved you. In doing so, he has broken no laws. Yes, he killed your target. Had he not, you would have been lost to your siblings and gone to the Void far too soon." She could practically feel the Night Mother beaming at her, and the sensation filled her with peace. She hadn't disappointed her.

The invisible hand returned and took her own hand this time, where unseen lips placed a kiss upon her palm. "Reyye," the sound of her name in the Night Mother's voice sent a wave of joy through her. "I have a very special gift for you, but there is someone I want you to meet first."

The hand gently pulled her along, and gradually the blackness of the void shifted and swirled, settling slowly into shapes and falling into shadows until the scene before them was fully formed. The hand in hers vanished, and she heard Mother's voice once more before her presence receded as well.

"We will speak again soon, daughter. Be sure to enjoy your stay." She thought she heard a hint of sly amusement in the Night Mother's voice, but before she could inquire of anything further, she was alone.

The room she stood in was made of stone. The walls, floor, and pillars were stacked from it. Banners bearing the symbol of the black hand hung from the walls, and torches illuminated the vast chamber, their light ricocheting off the smooth stone and bouncing about to settle in the farthest corners of the room. 

She appeared to be standing in the very center of this chamber, between four pillars on either side of her; to the left, right, and then before her and behind her. An ornately detailed rug lay beneath her feet, and she realized then that she was barefoot. She no longer wore her armor, but a black cotton tunic clung to her small frame.

The sound of singing echoed back to her from behind two large, ancient looking wooden doors and before she was able to react, the doors creaked open. A dark elf in black finery twirled out from between them, her hands lifted above her head as she danced. The silks of her dress swirled about her as she spun, a black and grey whirlwind in stark contrast with the off white stone.

" _ She puts her hand up to the sky~ _

_ She puts her hands up to the sky _

_ And she's icing her lie. _

_ She puts her hands up to the sky~ _

_ It makes her well up, it makes her- _ SISTER!"

She was vaguely aware of the blinding smile the elf shot her before she flew into her arms. The elf was tiny, but as she wrapped her arms around Reyye's midsection, her body felt like nothing but hard muscle.

"Mother told me that you would be visiting! It's so wonderful to finally meet you." The elf pulled away and held her at an arm's length, studying her face. In turn, she studied hers as well; full lips painted a deep shade of ocher, a narrow chin and pointed nose. Her red eyes were wide and lined finely with kohl, set below delicately arched brows. Reyye imagined that the elf's cheekbones were sharp enough to cut you if you slapped them.

The elf was one of the loveliest women that she had ever laid eyes on.

"You're so pretty!" The elf grinned, speaking a thought that echoed her own. She felt fully entranced by her smile; it made her mind feel slow and stupid. "My name is Arani. We're in the Cheydinhal sanctuary right now, or a version of it I suppose." Arani led her to a furnished corner of the room and took a seat on a bench against the wall.

"How-" she cleared her throat, frowning when she remembered that she had been doing that a lot recently. "How long have you been here?" She took a seat on a separate bench across from her, a table laden with bowls of fruit and wine between them. Arani grabbed two goblets and poured them both a glass. She passed Reyye her wine from over the table before tucking her legs under her and sighing happily.

"Oh, I'm not sure. I woke up here after I jumped off a cliff." She took a sip of her wine and smiled. "I was the Listener before Allisane. I think you've heard of her. Wonderful girl, though I haven't seen her here much. She's serving Sithis in the void now." The elf downed the rest of her wine and reached for the bottle to pour herself another. "I would be doing the same, but Mother wanted me to wait here for you." She paused to take a drink and shot Reyye a smirk from over the rim of her goblet. "And our newest guest."

The wine sat untouched in her goblet, but now she wished that she had taken a sip when Arani passed it to her, as her mouth had suddenly gone dry. 

"Our newest guest?" An echo of Arani's words were all she was able to articulate. Her stomach did an uncomfortable flip as the elf's smirk widened.

"Oh, sister. This is your reward." She rose from her place on the bench and offered Reyye a hand. She accepted it and followed suit, nerves making her legs tremble slightly. "Mother heard more than the words you spoke when you arrived at your sanctuary." Arani was now grinning. "Little did you know, your desire was a shared one."

Arani led her to the door on the opposite side of the room, and as the elf walked ahead of her she found it difficult to keep her eyes off of all the curves that were hugged tightly by the satin of her dress.

The dunmer leaned into the door and pushed, the muscles of her biceps flexing with the effort. The ancient door creaked, but opened with relative ease. She followed Arani into a new section of the sanctuary that appeared to be a training room. Racks of weapons and shields of various makes and materials hung on the walls, and figures made of straw and leather hung suspended from ropes secured to the ceiling. 

The furnishings, aside from the varying instruments of battle, were the same as the ones from the common room; dark rugs and banners, chairs and benches made from sturdy, dark wood. More wine and food set out on tables made of the same dark wood as the chairs.

"Just over here, sister." Arani guided her towards a dark corner of the room, her full lips parted in a smile that grew more brilliant with each step that drew them closer. Two figures sat in chairs with their backs facing them. The figures spoke in hushed tones that ceased when they stood only a few feet from them.

She was close enough to make out the features of the first figure as he turned in his seat to face her. Long, dark hair was pulled back from his face to reveal a chiseled jaw and broad chin, fine cheekbones, and a proud nose. Dark brows sat above a pair of brooding eyes that shone when they settled on Arani. 

"Ah, here they are." His voice was a deep rumble that sounded like thunder in his chest. The corner of his lips twitched upwards into a smile. He extended a gloved hand to the dark elf, and when she was close enough he pulled her onto his knee. The dark elf's smile was wide enough to split her face as she snaked an arm around his shoulders and leaned into him.

"Lucien, my love." He turned his face towards her and planted a kiss on her lips that the elf melted into, her body going slack as he brushed her long, dark hair away from her face.

There was the soft creak of the chair as the second figure rose and stepped out from the shadows towards her, the light from the nearby candelabra catching in the red waves of his hair. The gears of her mind seemed to roll backwards on themselves as she looked at him, because she knew who he was, but everything about the way he moved was drastically different from the mannerisms she had grown accustomed to over the years.

Cicero offered her a self satisfied smirk as he stood there, the usual mania in his face and eyes replaced with a cool confidence that made her stomach do an even harder flip than earlier. 

"Hello, Listener." 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief summary: Listener finally gets the pipe lol

Before she could speak, Cicero took another step forward until they were less than a foot apart. She studied him more closely, staring transfixed at his face.

He was the same Cicero she had relied on all these years, but with subtle differences here and there. There weren't as many lines in his skin, though the corners of his mouth still turned slightly upwards into an involuntary smirk. His brows were fuller and his eyes clearer, no longer clouded by ever present madness.

His voice was smooth and even now, and carried a deeper timbre within it that sounded foreign yet comfortable coming out of his mouth. She thought this suited him better.

She didn't realize that she had been watching him for an uncomfortably long period of time before he broke the silence between them.

"Mother arranged this entire ordeal so you'd stop torturing yourself, and you've yet to say a single word to me." A teasing tone crept into his voice at that, and she looked up just in time to watch the corners of his mouth curl up further into a smile. "Tell me what's going on in that pretty head of yours, Listener."

By Sithis, it was odd to hear Cicero flirt. Though she conceded to herself that he didn't seem to be half bad at it. Somehow this unnerved her further.

"This is so strange." She blurted it out before she could stop herself, and Cicero laughed. This wasn't the insane cackling he did all the time, but genuine laughter. Something long dormant stirred within her at the sound of it.

He turned and placed a hand on the small of her back to guide her to the chairs once occupied by Lucien and Arani, which she blinked at in confusion.

"Where did they go?" She turned to look at Cicero, who was completely unbothered by the pair's sudden disappearance.

"They left to return to the void. Their job here is finished." He sat in the chair the two former occupants had shared, and she took the one nearest to him. Her eyes drifted over Cicero's form as he reclined, admiring the silhouette he made in Assassin's armor. The black leather made his shoulders and chest appear broader; though that could have been another change she had only now noticed.

She sat with her legs crossed and leaned towards him slightly, still taking in all the changes of his appearance. Madness had really taken so much from him. Not that the Cicero she knew was unnattractive; just different. Unreachable. Distant.

"Are you real?"

Cicero laughed again, and the newly awakened part of her stretched to be nearer to the sound.

"Indeed I am." He reached across the chair and drew lazy circles on the back of her hand with his fingertips, smirking at her as he did so. "Who I was before was displaced, not destroyed. I can't say it's been unpleasant, being displaced." Something flashed in his eyes as he looked at her. "Not until recently, at least." His fingertips traveled from her hand up to her wrist now, his smirk gone as he explored her skin. 

"Do you have any idea how, for lack of a better description,  _ maddening _ it is to sit back and watch that blundering fool be near you? Oh, I can't count the times I've wanted to reach out and touch you." He was frowning now. "I haven't felt this way the entirety of time you've traveled with that Cicero. But slowly, it crept into my mind. It's… fascinating. The first time I felt it was when you spared me in Dawnstar." He stared down at her wrist where his fingertips became more insistent, the patterns they made no longer lazy, more frantic.

"I've seen how adept you are with a bow. How many arrows it takes for you to kill a man, three at the most. It would have been so simple for you to put one through my heart, but you didn't. Assassins aren't known for their exhibitions of mercy." He looked up at her then, his brown eyes filled with intensity. "Have I been the only one you've spared?"

She looked away from his stare, instead opting to watch the path of his fingertips and the goosebumps rising from her skin as they passed. "You're the only one to stand out."

His fingers trailed back down her wrist and enveloped her hand. He didn't respond. Instead, he pulled her hand towards him, and she rose from her seat to stand in front of him. Wordlessly, he pulled her onto his lap and her legs rested on either side of him. Her heart beat so quickly in her chest that it seemed to be still. 

She no longer needed to be curious about the warmth of his skin. His right hand threaded itself through her short hair as the other gripped her hip, and then his mouth was moving against hers. She pressed herself against him, her hands reaching up to cup his face as she felt his the tips of his fingers digging into her hip, pressing his groin against her.

He pulled his mouth away from hers and tugged upward roughly at her tunic, and when he finally succeeded in pulling it off of her, he sank his teeth into the soft spot between her collarbone and neck. The sensation of his teeth pressing into her skin drew a moan out from deep within her throat, and he gave one final bite before his grip on her tightened and abandoned the chair. 

In one motion, he swept everything off the table before them, and the contents hit the floor with various thuds and the shattering plates. Then she was on her back, Cicero between her legs as he pulled her underwear off and tossed them aside. She was completely unprepared for his fingers hooking inside of her, and had no time to prepare for the shockwave of pleasure that tore through her body.

"Fuck," was the only word that escaped her in a breathless whimper. Cicero chuckled, the familiar smirk returning as he pushed his fingers deeper inside her.

"That's the idea."

She was incapable of forming a coherent sentence after that point.

His head disappeared between her legs, and soon the sensation of his mouth against her joined his fingers, and noises she never knew she was capable of making escaped her. Heat pooled deep in her abdomen, and just before it burst Cicero pulled away. 

She hadn't realized her eyes were closed until she opened them to see him standing over her, stripping off his armor. When he was fully bare she reached up and pulled him to her, running her fingers through his hair and balling her hand into a fist. He rested his hands on her inner thigh, gently pushing her legs further apart so he could fit better between them.

Then he pushed into her, and a long, drawn out moan forced it's way out her mouth as he sheathed himself fully within her. Her back arched, and Cicero took the opportunity to take her breast into his hand as the other squeezed her thigh. He gave her a split second to adjust before he began to move, his hips grinding against hers as she clung to him, digging her nails into the flesh of his shoulder.

The rhythm he set with his hips was deliberate and rough, the table creaking in tune with their movements. Below her moans, the occasional grunt escaped him, and soon his breathing became almost as labored as her own.

The heat returned to her core, building and spreading with every thrust Cicero's hips made against hers. Soon the rhythm of his body against hers became more erratic, and the pressure from the ball of heat within her grew unbearable, and with a particularly rough thrust it burst and lit every nerve in her body on fire. She cried out, nails digging deeper into his skin until she feared that she had drawn blood.

Above her, Cicero pulled her closer to him and latched onto her neck again, groaning against her skin as he erupted inside of her. She held onto him as he clutched her to his chest, their breathing labored and shallow. His grip on her loosened after a time and he pulled away, sliding out of her with a barely audible grunt. 

He watched her lie there on the table, legs slightly spread to reveal the glistening wetness between her legs. He looked satisfied with himself for that and after she had rested for a moment, helped her stand to her feet and then pulled her into another kiss that she returned enthusiastically. He grabbed her tunic and assisted her in pulling it over her head, admiring the curves of her body as the fabric settled against her.

"You're welcome to stay here for the remainder of your slumber." He pulled on his armor again, but only the greaves this time. She admired the way the muscles of his arms and chest flexed every time he moved and reached out to touch his chest. He grinned at her, pulling her close again. "I'm guessing that's a yes, then."

She leaned in to kiss him, craving to memorize the taste of his mouth. "I couldn't think of a better way to spend my reward."  
  
  



End file.
